Reflections
by winternym
Summary: Atticus reflects on Tom's trial, and his children's reactions to the event. Three drabbles.
1. Chapter 1

**Atticus Finch, 1934**

I look down at the blank piece of paper, thinking about what has just occurred. I knew that white people would never give Negroes the rights they deserved. I'd seen it over and over again. Yet somehow, when I defended Tom Robinson today, I'd allowed myself to believe that, perhaps, there might be an exception. That maybe today justice would finally be served in Maycomb. It wasn't, of course, and I'll admit that I was disappointed. Upset. Angry, even. But Jem looked nearly destroyed.

Today, a bit of the naïve, idealistic part of my son died. And I know that I had a hand in killing it. I saw him, in court, even though I pretended not to. I could see the horror in his eyes, the pain. I could see him struggling not to cry out or break down. Before today, Jem still believed that hard, honest work was all that was needed. I don't think he fully understood the racism that most people hold in their hearts.

I tighten my hand into a fist, and my pen breaks. It's the third one tonight.

All I can do is hope that he'll come to understand that hard, honest work, while not enough to give a Negro a fair trial, is still worth doing. That being positive and putting effort into anything and everything you do is the best way to live life. I know that Jem always wanted to be a lawyer. I just hope that he doesn't turn away from his dreams because of what happened today.

And I hope he understands that just because someone is racist doesn't make him or her a bad person. If it did, nearly no one would be good. It's not right to allow fear to rule your life. I've told Jeremy that millions of times. But a single character flaw does not a bad person make. I doubt he'll understand that right away. In all likelihood he'll be bitter for a few months, maybe a few years. But once he understands, I do believe that this will have made a better person out of him.

And as for Scout, my daughter, I cannot think of her right now without feeling so proud I could burst. I think that what will prove to be one of Jem's greatest obstacles in life has just been overcome by her. I underestimated her, I underestimated her ability to keep her head, but I think that she understands, to a certain degree.

Today's trial had a horrible outcome. But I hope that the trial itself, despite the terrible miscarriage of justice, will remain a powerful memory for my children. And I hope, perhaps in vain, that what I said, that what I did, and that my actions at court today will inspire my children to be just and fair and true throughout their lives.

And, with that thought in mind, I can finally clear my head and do what must be done.


	2. Chapter 2

**Atticus Finch, 1934**

I have to do this. I cannot go back on my word.

As I walk toward the courtroom, I tell myself with every step that I must do this. I know that I cannot win. Tom Robinson is a black man. The Ewells are white. No white person, no matter how disrespected they are, could lose a case to a black man. But I have to do this. Tom Robinson, his family, and even my own children are depending on me.

I may not be able to win, but I can at least plant the seed of doubt in people's mind.

If I do this, even if Tom still loses the case, people will start to see that a black man can be honest, and good, and true. They may start to realize that perhaps not all white people deserve more respect than Negroes. Perhaps they will wonder if Negroes really are the lowest forms of human life. Perhaps... perhaps they'll begin to understand, subconsciously, that people should be judged on their character.

Because it's true. Black men can be honest, just as white people can be honest. Black men can be criminals, just as white men can be criminals.

When this is over with, even if Tom loses, not everyone will be fooled. People will see that Tom Robinson is innocent, as innocent as anyone. People will see that ruining Tom Robinson is as much a sin as killing a mockingbird. There will be some who see how corrupt the world becomes when a black man is involved.

And maybe, just maybe, if enough people see the truth... maybe justice will be served for once.

_**A/N: There you have it. This was an essay for class. I decided to put it up. Please review!**_


	3. Chapter 3

Dear Scout,

By the time you read this, you will be much older, a young woman. Perhaps you will be getting married, perhaps you will be studying far, far away, but I know that you will no longer be an eight-year old girl trying to strike a balance between being a lady and being a child. Although, if I know you as well as I presume to, you will always be two people: a fun-loving carefree tomboy, and a mature, intelligent and level-headed young lady.

I am writing this in 1934, on the day that you first met Boo Radley face-to-face, on the day that Bob Ewell tried to kill you. I know that you will remember this day. I know it will be engraved in my memory, for today was one of the only times that I was truly, deeply, profoundly scared.

But I will not dwell on unpleasant things. I am writing this, and therefore you are reading this, because you must know the truth.

In all honesty, this is not a truth that I particularly want to share. But you deserve to know.

You are incredibly sharp though, Scout, and are probably already doubting that. It is true, but you are right in thinking that it is not the real reason that I want you to know. It will suffice to say that all secrets are uncovered in time and I have decided that I would like to control how mine is revealed.

Tonight, Bob Ewell did not fall on his own knife, nor did Jem accidentally stab him. The act was performed by Arthur Radley.

As you have already deducted, this was kept a secret so that Mr. Radley would not be charged with murder, for, you see, to condemn someone as innocent as Arthur- well, it would be like killing a mockingbird.

Knowing you, my dear daughter, you might have already uncovered the truth. Perhaps you discovered the truth on this very day on which I am writing. Somewhere, deep inside of me, I am sure that you have.

So this letter is really just a reminder. The real sinners may have never committed a straight out crime. The so-called criminals of this world may never have sinned. The only real sin, Scout, is to kill a mockingbird.

You loving father,

Atticus Finch


End file.
